Deception
by AkiShinobi
Summary: The story of an adopted Baenre daughter who's not so happy with the gloom and doom of the Underdark. UPDATED. R&R please, or I'll send something extremely nasty to eat you. NEW Chapter 12 up!
1. Underdark

No, I do not own Forgotten Realms or any of Mr. Salvatore's characters. I do own Zie'a, however, back off, rawr.

This is a revamping of an older story, which I just deleted all together. Enjoy and review!

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_The Underdark._

_Place of eternal darkness, tangible evil, the chaotic homeland of the drow. A place that harbors only the deepest shadows and lurking creatures that do not belong in the purging light of day. Dark caverns cloak their ageless nature in the unbreakable darkness, not even the heat-seeking eyes of the wicked drow can gaze upon the boundless roofs of their underground home. _

_The drow._

_"Children" of the Spider Queen, Lolth, or so her powerful priestesses say; more like puppets, dancing for the evil goddess's whim, playing out a grim existance for the Spider Queen's amusement. And her drow minions follow along willingly, led by the ambitious priestesses, whose only goal is the favor of their Queen, power, and the glory of their house. Always superior to the weaker males, ever ready to administer punishment, always willing to exact revenge, forever searching for a way to further themselves in the eyes of their Queen; even if it means the wholesale slaughter of an entire ruling House. Most drow have no conscience. _

_Even me, expecially me, but I suppose I wouldn't be writing this if I did not have spark of pity or the capacity for love or gentleness that my drow kin seem to lack; or maybe hide. If indeed, they ever had it, its buried deep beneath the urges of survival and lust for advancement in the world of the Underdark. Shouldn't a society be founded on the common interest of surviving and thriving?_

_Evidently not._

_But, are there other societies that are any different? Are there cities of people who have the capacity to love? Are there others who crave, not power or advancement, but only a warm family or happy existance? Is there another place where the people do not slaughter their own in the lust for power or for favors from the Spider Queen? When Drizzt Do'Urden fled from Menzoberranzan, did he find a more meaningful life elsewhere with creatures that shared his tender soul? Or did he only find a place resembling the dark city doused in the burning light of the sun? Are the surface elves any different from us beside their paler skin? What about the svirnebli or the humans of the surface? Are they any different than the drow? Is it our worship of an evil goddess, or is it something else? Perhaps its the Underdark that calls up the worst in us; maybe its the eternal dark that makes us the chaotic and unpredictable people that we are._

_Soon I shall see their differences firsthand. Menzoberranzan has been doused in light, and battle plans for the seizure of the surface has begun. I find myself dreaming of the glorious chaos that this take over will cause, but, simultaniously, find myself writhing in the depths of nightmares as I imagine myself slaughtering surface children._

_Zie'la Baenre_


	2. Jarlaxle: Drizzt Arrives

The city of Menzoberranzan, newly adorned with the mage-lights of varying shades of blue and purple, glistened darkly in the revealing light, giving birth to flickering shadows where total darkness once reigned. The lights shone with the festive gleam of celebration, and, in a way, they were. The excitement of the drow community was almost palpable as the giagantic cavern that was the drow city buzzed with activity; albeit a seething type of movement that was only felt by those of its long-term inhabitants. To an outsider, the city was silent, the various noble Houses quiet and still, even the mixed groups of slaves and common drow moved around in the city's newly-acquired shadows with little more than a russle. Zie'la rubbed her thin arms with her slender hands as she moved competantly through the shadows, shifting her eyes out of the infrared spectrum as she came into the more heavily lit areas of the city.

She skirted a small group of goblin slaves and their common elf handlers, easily avoiding the lowered eyes of the slaves and skirting the not-so-alert eyes of the two drow that followed. There were not many in Menzoberranan that _could _keep track of the adopted Baenre daughter and these two common soldiers were certainly no match. If she so chose to, she could have quickly dispatched them without the somewhat drunken expressions leaving their faces but it would have served no purpose other than to slow her, and certainly her absence hadn't went unmarked by her coniving brothers. She eyed the stone spider-guardians that marked the entrance of House Baenre with disgust as she slipped silently beneath them, putting a hand to her neck as her magical _piwafwi _tingled.

The lights were brighter as she stood in the front hallway of House Baenre, shielding her eyes quickly against the brighter glare and shaking her head slightly to clear her eyes of the tears that had spang unbidden to her stinging eyes. She swore softly and slipped down a side corridor where the lights were less and she could allow her night vision eyes to adjust comfortably and could reflect on her past meeting with Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle, possibly the most powerful male of Menzoberranzan, was definately a most interesting character.Though not exactly amiable or particularly altruistic--he was a drow after all-- he was a more desirable companion than her own adopted family, and though she didn't often find herself desiring his company, his conversation certainly kept her on her toes and his warped sense of honor buried deep beneath the cocky facade was a welcome, if somewhat irregular, reprieve from the other drow. She grimaced as she recalled their earlier meeting as she slipped into her room.

_"I have heard rumors circulating Menzoberanzan, Jarlaxle, rumors I am sure Bregan D'aerthe can help me with." Zie'la said tersely as the mercenary reclined backward with a saucy smile, twirling his rediculous feathered hat around in his deft hands. Zie'la scowled._

_Jarlaxle learned back into his seat with his traditional cheerful smile as he seemed to consider the statement. Zie'la knew better of course, there were very few things in Menzoberanzan the mercenary and his crew didn't know; and those they didn't weren't worth knowing. _

_Jarlaxle grinned as he mused quietly, covertly watching the dimunutive adopted Baenre assasin. She chose to ignore the furtive looks as she waited patiently for him to reply. _

Zie'la had been the daughter of a minor House, a house that had attracted the covetous attention of a smaller noble house even lower in the ranks. Zie'la, then a child so young that she had yet to leave the family chapel had been called Zielanafae, the last of five children born to Matron Kierie Huyy'Cienett, a daughter certain to be pinned down to a priesthood she was unsuited for. Her house had not defeated the rivaling house in battle, but the house had been unsuccessful in disposing of the noble family, leaving only the tiny Huyy'Cienett daughter alive. At the distruction of the erring house,Matron Baenre, who at the time had many priestess daughters, had taken in the noble child. Not out of the goodness of her heart, but out of greed. She had realized how unfit the female child was for the possession of priestesshood that most females undertake, and had decided with the young girl's flippant disgust with the thought of spending her life worshiping a spider(though she never voiced her opinions) would most likely bring disgrace and disfavor upon the Matron Baenre's wizened head.

With that in mind, the child had been given over to Dantrag and infrequently to the intrepid Jarlaxle and trained in the subtle art of assasination

_"Drizzt Do' Urden," Zie'la prompted shortly, her delicate, beautiful face ebon and scowling in the meagre light given off from a small orb of mage-light. Jarlaxle inclined his head slightly. "And what would I know of the infamous traitor Do'Urden?" He asked innocently settling back to admire the Baenre's tiny, yet distinctly cold features as she glowered back at him. He shrugged noncommitally. "It would take some time, what would you know?"_

She became Dantrag's frequent equal, though she was not skilled with magery, she was deadly acurate with the long, wickedly sharp throwing needles she used, though she also used a pairing of short sword and wedge-shaped knife in hand to hand combat, mostly she stuck to small, concealable weapons easily used on covert missions.Hers was a rare gift for a female of her stature, Matron Baenre had often beamed, entirely wasted on the lower Houses, but shone through given the careful raising of House Baenre. As if the Matron actually paid the least attention to her before she had shone any signs of skill. Most likely she had took her in for the simple reason as she hated to see a female go to waste. Female assasins were hard to come by, even more rare were skilled ones.

_She sighed, well familiar with Jarlaxle's games. She pulled a pouch of coins from her _piwafwi _and tossed them into his lap. "Information, please?" He smiled widely, jumping up to give her another flashy bow as he strutted around the current housing of Bregan D'aerthe, a small cave complex nestled within the labyrinth that was Menzoberranzan. "I suspect he is in the Underdark," She began before Jarlaxle could speak; he nodded an affirmative that she had anticipated as she signalled him to begin. "Drizzt Do'Urden nears Menzoberranzan, for reasons yet unfathomable, but I can certainly guarantee he isn't wishing for a warm homecoming. Spying, most likely."_

_"How did you learn this?"_

_"I have my sources,"_

_"Lolth damn it, pray tell,"_

_For an assasin, she had suprisingly little patience._

Now Matron Baenre was in possesion of the city's most successful killer. Zie'la could not have been more precious to her if the First Matron Mother had given birth to her herself. Sometimes though, Zie'la felt sickened by the pleasure she took from sinking her blades into the flesh of a drow, or seeing the limp fall of a target successfully hit from behind by her hand held crossbow. Mostly, her targets never knew she was there, unless, or course, the Matron commanded she reveal herself before killing them.

_Jarlaxle chuckled. "The renegade is near the city, soon to enter it with a slaving party. Your mother and eldest sister, as you know, are extremely interested in this drow. Maybe you will meet him?" Zie'la schooled her face to be perfectly expressionless though for a moment her heart raced. Jarlaxle turned slightly as one of his drow followers entered the room, signing something quickly over Zie'la's head. She ignored him, confident she would soon know the meaning of this intrusion._

_Her reward was not long in coming. Jarlaxle grinned rougishly as he dismissed the underling, bowing festively and sweeping his hat above the floor in a florishing arch. "Let me refraise that statement. Drizzt Do'Urden has _entered _Menzoberranzan." Zie'la stood quickly. "The Isle of Rothe," He added suggestively as the Baenre rudely excused herself._

Zie'la hoped with ever fiber of her being that Drizzt would escape her malevolent kin, but knew beyong a shadow of a doubt that she would soon see him chained in the dungeons below. She settle back onto her tiny bed and waited for the inevitable call from the Matron.


	3. Brothers

Again I do not own any characters or places from the Forgotten Realms, though I bow to the genius mind of R.A. Salvatore for creating a character as personal and ingenious as Drizzt Do'Urden. I do, however, own Zie'la, any attempt to steal her will be met with lobed bombs and chucked nuclear war heads in the form of death threats and computer viruses.

If you wish to read with complete safety, do not even entertain the thought of stealing her. I read minds as well. :D

This story is set during _Starry Night _and this next part happens directly after Drizzt is captured on The Isle of Rothe. Since I don't want to steal Mr. Salvatore's scene, I shall skip it entirely and instead begin after he is taken prisoner. Still, this story contains spoilers.

This is a short chapter because I'm running late on homework, hopefully there shall be more tomorrow as I don't have band practice.

The expected summons came from a smiling Dantrag, accompanied by the dour Berg'inyon only moments later. With a devilish grin that betrayed his intent even before he had passed the threshold of her door, the eldest son swaggered in, earning himself a dark scowl from Zie'la as the delicate assasin laid her hand pointedly inside her jacket where her wedge-shaped knife lay. Whatever Dantrag was, her wasn't stupid and with a hurried, sarcastic bow, stepped back into the hallway, much to Berg'inyon's obvious amusement.

"The foolish Drizzt Do'Urden has returned to Menzoberranzan, sister," Dantrag spoke gleefully, his face lighting up with a savage joy that Zie'la could not understand. Oh, she knew well the cause of it; Dantrag had lusted after a chance to prove his superiority to the late Zak'nafein Do'Urden, hailed as the finest weapons master of Menzberranzan and that chance had been denied to him by the fearful machinations of the Spider Queen and her misguided priestesses. To him, fighting Drizzt, Zak'nafein's equal, Dantrag felt he would have upheld his honor and appeased his pride. Zie'la knew of her twisted brother's reasons, but not the logic behind his contorted abitions. Zie'la had no pride or honor that she felt needed appeased.

"The idiot arrived with a slaving party, and was captured on the Isle of Rothe a mere hour ago," Berg'inyon added sourly, as if the close proximity of the infamous rebel angered him. _Well it might, Drizzt bested him every year after their first in Melee-Magthere, causing Berg'inyon to lose favor with the Matron. _Zie'la stood and strapped her short sword to her side, checking sereptitously that her set of throwing needles, set in a ingenious contraption underneath her left sleeve that, with a simple snap of her fingers, slid a needle into her hand was in a firm position on her arm and that her knife was hid snugly beside her _piwafwi._She frowned slightly at her brothers as they backed away from her doorway to allow her out. "Do you think me stupid?" She asked harsely of Dantrag as he took the lead point as they navigated their way through the twisted tunnels of House Baenre.

Zie'la wasn't surprised when he took the route leading to the prison cells. "You would have to be a half-wit not to know Drizzt Do'Urden was in Menzoberranzan." She turned a slight eye toward Berg'inyon. _He looks pissed. Maybe he _didn't _know._ She laughed softly. The youngest son turned an angry glare her direction. She raised a slender eyebrow sardonically. "War councils keeping you busy?" She reasoned sarcastically, knowing well their mother's outlook on male intelligence in the war room. If she belived males had any intelligence at all, she certainly didn't believe it enough to help with war tactics.Berg'inyon growled and Dantrag threw an amused, if somewhat wary, look over his shoulder.

Matron Baenre was waiting with three of her daughters, and the revolting illithid, Methil. Zie'la repressed a shiver as the creature turned its slimy body toward her and Matron Baenre rotated the driftdisk to face them with a triumphant smile. "Matron," they murmered with low bows. "Let us proceed," Matron Baenre commanded, and entered the cell door.


	4. Meeting: The Illithid

Thou shalt not steal mine characters or ye shall recieve a distinctly uncomfortable kick in yon arse.

Please excuse mine French.

I do not own Forgotten Realms, remember this, because I'm already growing tired of proclaiming non-ownership...the extra type hurts my li'l fingers :(

The cell was silent as the Matron and her prisoner locked stares, Drizzt with a wary, resigned look in his lavender eyes and the wrinkled mother with a triumphant gleam. Beside Zie'la, the drow assassin could feel Dantrag and Berg'inyon's muscles tensing with excitement as she turned her gaze away, staring into the murky darkness that flicked strangely with the foreign lights. A single, pompous word from the Matron brought her hesitant gaze upwards, unintentionally locking on the outcast drow as he smirked confidently at the hovering Matron. "Fool!" She shrieked at him, advancing her hover disk forward slightly to put the Do'Urden's face in a better light. "To have the arrogance to return to this city knowing you would be captured. Did you think you could enter unseen, Drizzt Do'Urden?" She asked maliciously as Vendes advanced along with her mother, petting the vicious snake-headed whip lovingly and sending longing looks the renagade drow's way.

Suddenly, Matron Baenre's scowl dissapeared into the wrinkled visage of her ugly face, suddenly replaced with a twisted smile. "you have been honored this day, Drizzt Do'urden," she laughed openly in the prisoners face. "I present my second-oldest daughter, Bladen'Kerst Baenre," She waved a fragile hand the the middle female. " Vendes and Quenthel Baenre. Behind stands my sons, Dantrag and Berg'inyon, whom, I believe, who know,"

"Well met," Drizzt greeted cheerily with a small salutation and cheeky smile, earning him a slap from the matron mother. Zie'la couldn't halt a thin smile from showing at the renagade's antics.

"And my youngest daughter, Zie'la Baenre," The female assassin inclined her head slightly in the drow's direction. " A pleasure," she said sarcastically. Drizzt regarded her with a puzzled expression, as if wondering where she had come from. _Its not as if Matron Baenre was in the bloom of child-bearing days when he last had contact with Menzoberranzan. _She thought before quickly banishing it from her mind, well aware that in a room with four high priestesses and an illithid the conversations she held with herself stood a sound chance of being overheard. "Seven Baenres have come to witness your downfall, Drizzt Do'Urden," the matron mother continued viciously, "let your pride be appeased." Drizzt snorted.

"I would clasp wrists..." he trailed off into a nonchalant shrug as he was swiftly reprimended by the matron and Zie'la had to fight down another smile. He brought the cocky Jarlaxle to her mind.

"You will be given to the Spider Queen," Baenre said casually, watching her victim for a reaction. There was steel in the outcast's lavender eyes. "My soul belongs to Mielikki," he replied, meeting the wrinkled matron's questing gaze. She shrugged, as if it did not matter. "You will have much time to contemplate this, your death will not be quick nor easy, I assure you. You will provide us much information." Her eyes encompassed her children, resting lightly upon her adopted daughter before turning back to Drizzt. "The whereabouts of the dwarf king for starters, of course. My assassin shall make short work of the pitiful ruler." Drizzt's eyes flamed. Zie'la started slightly, wondering when her matron had decided on this course of action. Suddenly, her pulse quickened. She liked not where this conversation was going.

_She can only be referring to Bruenor Battlehammer. Lolth, damn it!_ She cursed her matron silently in her head for putting her in such a position. Killing members of her evil race were no problem for her, she knew well their evil hearts and their chaotic Queen, her mind and heart could easily condone, even relish, the should of her various weapons cleaving into dark flesh. She felt a certain grim satisfaction is knowing she was releasing another of her evil kin into the afterworld, but, taking innocent lives(no drow is ever innocent) was something that struck her heart in a way she was sure wasn't normal for a drow. Besides, killing a dwarven king would require journeying to the surface, and if she wasn't particularly comfortable in the perpetual darkness of the Underdark, she was doubly sure she didn't want to set foot on the damn surface.

Her soul was a constant battle of conflicting emotions. Nothing sounded as sweet as the sound of her blades ripping through a drow's skin, and yet ever pore in her body cried out injustice when she was forced she bring her weapon to bear against an opponent or target of a different race. Against, illithids, had she ever the misfortune to meet one other than her mother's pet, Methil, she would not hesitate, against the various creatures of the Underdark, her aim would certainly be true, but of the cultured inhabitants of the surface, or even the svirvnebli or pech...Her soul shrank away from the prospect of being sent to kill a king who, by all accounts, was little more than a shell of his former self, completely demoralized by the loss of his adopted son. She could only imagine what the murder of his truest friend would do to the tortured dwarf.

Her skills did not rival that of the Do'Urden's, or even Dantrag...It seemed that Matron Baenre had unseemly trust in her abilities.

_An assassin does what is ordered, there in no time for contemplations, implications, later punishments or if the target deserves to die. Everyone dies eventually, my job is to insure those that are in the way of my matron are sent to the next world _

_early. _It wasn't a task she enjoyed, but always before she had killed her own kin, in her own element. Now...

She forced herself to shut up.

Infrequently, she defeated her hated drow teacher in sparring matches, and she was easily the better of Berg'inyon, though she had much to learn. She had no greater skill with weapons than the next drow, though her talent for sneaking into heavily guarded places was legendary, and she _did _have a particularly useful skill of placing a thin throwing needle precisely where she wished it to go.

On asssignments, she usually chose a pairing of stiletto knife and dagger, or occasionally the handheld crossbow favored by many drow soldiers.

With a force of will, she reflected her racing mind back to the conversation, though her pulse had quickened slightly and she felt her brow grow cool with cold sweat.Matron Baenre was gloating again; big surprise. "I will torture him, Mother," Vendes moved forward eagerly, her snake-headed whip twisting excitedly around her face. "Duk-Tak!" The matron mother rounded on her daughter, flaying her verbally with her well-honed tongue. Zie'la could see Drizzt contemplating the meaning of _duk-tak. _She surpressed a shiver as she detected the beginnings of comprehension in his lavender eyes, then the coming fear. "Wonderful," he murmered sarcastically.

"You have heard of my precious daughter?" The matron asked slyly, turning back to her prisoner as Zie'la edged forward slightly, ashamed to feel such a way, but eager as to how Drizzt would handle his desperate situation. " Rest assured, Duk-Tak shall have her time with you, but not before I get my information."

Drizzt shot Matron Baenre a look of pure scorn. She laughed disdainfully. "You could withstand torture, I have no doubt, my daughter has your same stubborn resiliance," She shot a look Zie'la's way. The assassin kept her eyes riveted upon the captured drow, refusing to meet her matron's eyes. The Matron laughed as she beckoned to Methil. Against her wishes, Zie'la felt a rising terror and took a quick step backward before forcibly stopping herself. She saw with satisfaction she was not the only one; both Dantrag and Berg'inyon was watching the illithid apprehensively. "Can you withstand the illithid?" Baenre finished softly.

Zie'la say the unmistakable panic in the Do'Urden's eyes. Her heart was moved by pity as she addressed her matron softly, "Will the illithids intrusions not kill him, Matron?" she asked, sliding quick glances at the frozen Drizzt, who was listening attentively, though he could not wrench his terrorized gaze from the illithid's misshapen, slimy face. Matron Baenre whirled with a vengance on her youngest daughter. "Why would it concern you wether the traitor lives?" She snapped. Zie'la lowered her eyes in a servile manner, though she felt like jerking out her stiletto knife and shoving it painfully up Matron Baenre's wizened ass. " I was meerly attempting to negotiate the well-being of our house, Matron," she dumurred quietly, sensitive to the Baenre mother's ego. "If the prisoner is killed during interrogation, I only assumed the Spider Queen could not be pleased with the lose of the sacrifice she has so long craved."

Matron Baenre smirked. "You care nothing for the emotions of Lolth, if you did, you would be a priestess, not an assassin." Zie'la shrugged as the matron mother broke out in a wide smile. "However, I know the _real _reason behind your inquiry, and don't worry, _if _her survives, you shall have your turn with him to appease your honor. No doubt you have some new potent poisons and tricks you would like to try." She smirked, but behind her wrinkled mouth was a look a cool calculation as she regarded her daughter. Zie'la bowed. "As you wish, Matron Mother," she murmered as she allowed Vendes to sweep forward, watching in mounting horror as Methil took his place beside the doomed drow's drooping form.

She watched as Drizzt tried vainly to fight off the questing tentacles,and Duk-Tak's swift reprimend. She forced herself to watch, boring her gaze into the Do'Urden's, telling herself that if she didn't learn to act as heartless as her kin, she might soon take his place.


	5. Humans

Zie'la was forced to seek Jarlaxle's advice yet again. She didn't want to and she desperately fought against the clear reasonings for doing so, invoking all her skills in spying and intimidation to answer the one question that had been circling around her mind. "What happened to the cat?" Seemingly, the appearance of the great panther owned by Drizzt Do'Urden would not have been that great of an event, except for the fact that the cat and the figurine used by the renagade to call the feline had gone missing. A sketchy rumor about the sighting of a drow priestess on the island had also reached her nets, and, suspicious as she was, she was much more interested in what had happened to Guenhwyvar than she was worried over the identity of a single drow female. She deducted that Bregan D'aerthe had something to do with both.

But she would rather not confront the unpredictable man about it. It was a disturbing possibilty that Jarlaxle and his band of mercs had something to do with one or both disappearances, and what Jarlaxle wishes to keep secret, few will ever know. Her mind whirled around in circles of maybes as she presented herself at the front of Bregan D'aethe's newest location, waiting patiently as the two discreet guards went to inform Jarlaxle of her arrival. As if he didn't already know; she bet the merc was wondering what took her so long. A guard returned to guide her through Jarlaxle's newest location; the deserted hull of what had once been House Do'Urden. He wouldn't stay for long, maybe he was only waiting to finish his meeting with her, then would move his entire band to another locality.

It didn't matter. She wanted information from him, she could care less about where he was when he gave it, though she couldn't understand how anyone could set foot in this place; it had the feel of ghosts. _Most likely, its just spare demons the Do'Urden priestesses left behind. _She thought disdainfully as she entered the room where Jarlaxle was waiting. As always, the ever pleasant Jarlaxle was ready for her, smile hugely in greeting as he dashed the hat from his shaved head and florished it before him and swept into a low bow. She bent slightly at the waist in return but her eyes rested on the sight seated behind Jarlaxle, the unreadable face of a human. Its not as if she didn't know of him; many who moved in the same circles as Bregan D'aerthe had met the surface assassin before, though why he was here during her meeting with the mercenary was a question that eluded her.

She studied the human as only an assassin could. He was probably more than a match for her in hand to hand combat; he stood at least two foot taller than her three and a half foot frame but possessed the same wiry muscular structure as she, making his body thin and compact. His face was full of angular features, with striking cheekbones, and a strong jawline, heightened by the straight cut of his raven hair. The pale skin seemed disgustingly foreign to her, and shone in the semi-darkness of the abondoned room. His eyes were a murky gray, devoid of any emotion except--she sensed this even in the slight tightening of his muscles and the uncomfortable way he sat in the darkness-- for a growing desperation that Zie'la could well place. He wanted out, a blind fool could have sensed it.

She cocked a slim eyebrow at Jarlaxle, shooting her gaze pointedly at the assassin. He watched her openly, eyes narrowed somewhat at the intensity of her gaze. Jarlaxle laughed. "He has more than a passing interest in Drizzt Do'Urden as well,"

She hissed in anger. "The renagade is House Baenre's prisoner, Jarlaxle, why would a surface dweller have any interest at all in something that belongs to Baenre?" She forced herself to say it, a bold lie that she did not, in the least bit, feel. She wanted the assassin away from the Do'Urden; she knew her kind well, what else could this man want, other than revenge? It went double for the notorious Entreri, he and Drizzt had been rivals since the moment they met. "Let him listen, Zie'la. I believe you two can strike an agreement that will suit the both of you. He wants out of the Underdark; you want Drizzt to escape." She scowled. "I want information on the cat," she spoke hastily; for a male, Jarlaxle had the unnerving quality of seeming to read minds.

He laughed. "Of course. You would also like to know of the priestess on the Isle of Rothe, don't you?" She inclined her head. "Preceptive, as always," she allowed, settling down in a chair across from Jarlaxle and the assassin."I will hear what you have to say," Jarlaxle gave his traditional cocky smile before switching to what Zie'la assumed was the surface tongue to explain the situation to Enteri. she frowned. "How long has he lived among us, and does not know our language? A bit slow, don't you think?" Jarlaxle stopped and turned to her. "Understandably, he doesn't spend much time among the drow,"

She couldn't help a small smile. "I find it hard to dispute him,"

"The panther?" she asked, pulling a sack of coins from her _piwafwi._ Jarlaxle held out his hand for it. That smile again. Jarlaxle knew something. He shrugged. She glowered. "The priestess, then," He broke into a wide grin. "That, I can help you with," He snapped his fingers and rose his voice in a command as he stood and made his way to the closed door. The door opened, revealing two drow mercs with a struggling...

She groaned softly. Another human. She leaped to her feet swiftly, followed closely by Entreri. "What has this human to do with our discussion?" she asked angrily as the two drow soldiers released the human woman into Jarlaxle's care with relieved expressions. Jarlaxle smiled again; it was beginning to iritate her. He tossed something to her and she caught it reflexively. It was a mask, banal and unremarkable, with a single cord to bind it to your head. She looked at him skeptically, her anger rising. "What, did the human make this?" She scowled. Jarlaxle grinned wickedly and took the mask back from her unresisting hands and put it swifty to his face. His body began to ripple and change, the ebony black of his skin lightened until it matched the sickly paleness of the two humans who watched quietly, their faces showing no startlement as the mercenary captain underwent the change from drow to surface elf.

"Lolth damn it," she breathed as the exuberant mercenary whipped the mask from his face, reverting back to his well-know cocky visage.He handed the mask back to her with a flourish. She handled it gingerly, inspecting it in a respectful silence. "This human woman," he motioned slightly to the girl." Is Catti-brie, a human companion to Drizzt Do'Urden," she nodded slightly. "She followed Drizzt into the Underdark, using the mask to disguise her heritage. Ingenious actually." Zie'la had to agree. This mask was the perfect assassin's tool; she could easily move closer to her prey without the slightest hint of mistrust or suspision. She turned to ask Jarlaxle for the price of the mask, but the mercenary was moving toward the door. "I believe you three may have much to discuss; I will leave you alone," He smiled at her as he closed the door.

She tensed, ready for an assault she felt sure was coming, but Entreri had settled uncomfortably back into his chair and the human woman, Catti-brie was meerly watching her with a speculative look in her eyes. "Do you understand me?" Zie'la asked of the human woman. Catti-brie shrugged helplessly. She repeated it in svirvnebli, then goblin, which both Catti-brie and Entreri understood. She watched them both apprehensively, though she carefully schooled her expression to be one of disdainful demeanor. She was intrigued by the two, and, as of yet, did not feel as though she should rip Jarlaxle's head off and feed it to a drider. She didn't know what Jarlaxle had in mind, but she had a pretty good idea what the humans had in their's.

"_You _want to escape," she inclined her head softly in Entreri's direction. He grunted a assertion. "And you want to free Drizzt," she finished in a whisper as she turned to Catti-brie. She nodded and for the first time in awhile, Zie'la's face broke into a true, unhindered smile. "I think I can help you,"


	6. Lolth Damn It

_"_I can get you into House Baenre," she told them, settling down across from the assassin, locking her red, head-seeking eyes with his cloudy gray ones. "Surely, since you have spent so long beneath the surface, you know which house is Baenre." Entreri sneered. "I am not, as you seem to think, completely oblivious of my surroundings. I'm not dead, am I?" She growled. "Give that smart mouth of your's a few more comments and you won't live to see another ray of sunlight," Entreri shrugged, uncaring, but for the first time in their brief conversation, she sensed a light in his eyes. To him, the game had just gotten good.

She spun the mask around in her hands, trying to get a feel of its remarkable magic. Nothing. It was still the same bland thing, a rough, crude carving made to somewhat resemble a face; something that perhaps a young child would make. An idea was rapidly beginning to form in her mind. She tossed the thing quickly to Entreri, who caught it deftly in his pale hands, holding it and eyeing her with a look a distrust. "You will go as a drow," she instructed watching as he brought the mask quickly to his face. She surpressed a shiver as the inartistic thing melded itself to his features and a wave of black skin covered the sickly pale. His body changed slightly, thinner and shorter, and the shape of his faced turned more delicate; the small boned heritage of the drow.

She nodded appreciatively. "I really need one of those,"

_Why must I be so eternally stupid? _Zie'la berated herself as she led the two humans swiftly through the deserted streets of Menzoberranzan. _Jarlaxle! That coniving bastard. Lolth damn him, his days are numbered. _She cursed vehemently, suddenly stopping the two humans in the shadows as a small slave party passed them by, silent and morose goblins marching solemnly ahead of their drow masters. She reflected upon her brief decent into insanity as they waited for the group to pass, heading somewhere in the vicinity of the lower Houses.

"We must move slowly," She whispered to the others, almost cringing at the sound. Were they two drow, she could have signed to them; she often lamented the short-comings of her hastily-gathered companions. "Matron Baenre is holding a great ceremony this night, with many Matron Mothers in attendance, but we must take care not to draw attention to ourselves," The two nodded their understanding as Zie'la began again, moving silently and competantly through Menzoberranzan, though slowing her gait to one much slower that usual. Her allies were human, after all. They moved within sight of House Baenre and Entreri and Zie'la quickly dropped back to surround Cattie-brie, clutching her slender arms tightly in theirs as she pretended to struggle. She leaned slightly toward the fire-headed woman and spoke softly before they came within hearing distance of the gates. "This is your chance; you blow this, and your chance is gone; I'll not hesitate to slay you both," Cattie-brie nodded, a determined look in her blue eyes. Zie'la glanced quickly at Entreri to confirm their action then they started forward, Cattie-brie fighting vainly as they drug her through the silent stone sentries. Zie'la felt a distinct discomfort as she passed beneath the impassive gaze.

Again, she wondered why she ever thought she could pull this off.

_Why? What was the reason for this? Why help them? I care nothing for whether the two humans get back to the surface._

_But you care if Drizzt does._

This unexpected comeback startled her, though she knew it was her own thought. _Hell, I might, but that doesn't stop me from being as mad as a surface elf during the full moon._ She had a feeling this was going to be a long night.


	7. Second Thoughts

House Baenre was strangely deserted. Though the grand ceremony was being held in the Baenre chapel, Zie'la's finely honed senses tingled as they made their way swiftly through the nest of halls, pressing toward the infamous Drizzt's cell. She exchanged glances with Entreri, seen the knowing look in his eyes as he peered suriptitiously around, irrationally hoping for a drow to emerge from the shadows or from a branching hallway. Maybe even the strange cadences of whispered words. They might have felt better after a loud explosion or two; instead, the house was dead silent, not even the chanting from the chapel permeated where they walked. Zie'la felt something was wrong, she hoped she was just wound too tight; she had good reason, after all.

"This is crazy," Zie'la whispered, almost too quiet to hear as they neared the doorway that led downward into the lower dungeons. Entreri agreed readily. They paused at the hollowed doorway, apprehensive about venturing further. Zie'la squared her shoulders and with a snarl of disgust wrenched the young woman forward, forcing the human assassin along beside her, almost furious with herself for fearing to enter the place. This was her house, what did she expect to be waiting?

"Damn," She breathed as they crossed the thresehold into the widened room that stood as an entrance to the lower levels of the cells. The place where six bullish minotaurs lounged against the wall, adamantite weapons shining dully in the flickering light of the two torches, crude features pulled into expressions of boredom that rapidly changed as the three materialized into their domain. "These were not suppose to be here,"

_Idiot._

"_Belbau lil k'lararl xan'ss,_" one grunted as they snapped to attention. Zie'la cocked an eyebrow as the monstrous drow advanced a step. She released Cattie-brie to Entreri and advanced herself, her mind cold and calculating, clear and sharp.

The unexpected minotaurs had put her into the mindset of one of her jobs, one she was determined to see to the end. At that moment, she could have called on the minotaurs to slaughter the two humans, rid herself of that annoyance quickly and easily; but now, with the appearance of these obstacles that so clearly stated the Matron was expecting an attempt at rescue or escape the stakes grew higher and Zie'la was determined to meet her hated Matron's challenge. She turned a haughty eye upon the minotaurs, looking each one directly in the eye with an arrogance that wasn't entirely feigned. Pressed, she was fairly certain that the three of them could take care of the humanoids. Minotaurs were not known for their brains, though she decided she would try a subtler approach before she began bashing heads

_"Lu'oh kuuv dos telanth ulu ussa wun nindel valyr! Xun dos naut zhaun vel'uss p'los dos, xa'huuli rothe? Usstan uil Zie'Lla Baenre ulu sila nindol rivvil ulu valm lil og'elend harl ulu wun lil.Lu'oh kuuv dos ussa? Dorn waess dos dro vel'klar dos fre'sla!"_

She continued berating them until they backed down. she raged vehemently for a few moments longer for the effect then abruptly stopped, throwing a disgusted look at them as she motioned Entreri forward. He shuffled by her with Cattie'brie, both silent and jerky in their movements, the human woman watching the humanoids somewhat fearfully as they siddled by and the six regarded them longingly. Entreri, true to his form, appeared nonchalant.

_"Ussta taudl. Elendar t'yin." _The leader finally grunted and Zie'la could here Cattie'brie's small sigh of relief as the quickly continued toward Drizzt's cell. The human even smiled at Zie'la slightly as she rejoined them; the drow assassin looked away quickly. She _would _be in trouble if she began to feel affection for these humans.

"I suppose we should thank you," Entreri whispered haughtly as she took up her position in front of them, leading them quickly down the narrow hallway that led to Drizzt's cell. "What for? For being a Baenre? I might as well thank the both of you for being idiots," She caught murderous glares from both. _Maybe I should have left them with the minotaurs._

**Translations:**

_Belbau lil k'lararl xan'ss- _"Give the password!"

_Lu'oh kuuv dos telanth ulu ussa wun nindel valyr! Xun dos naut zhaun vel'uss p'los dos, xa'huuli rothe? Usstan uil Zie'Lla Baenre ulu sila nindol rivvil ulu valm lil og'elend harl ulu wun lil.Lu'oh kuuv dos ussa? Dorn waess dos dro vel'klar dos fre'sla! -"_How dare you talk to me in that manner! Do you not know who stands before you, worthless slave? I am Zie'la Baenre, you idiot. Sent to bring this human to join the heretic down in the dungeon. How dare you hinder me? I'll skin you alive where you stand!"

_Ussta taudl. Elendar t'yin-_"My apologies. Continue then."


	8. Confrontations

Only two drow males guarded the door. She dispatched them quickly, silently, plucking the keys from one's hand as he fell. Nonchalantly, she fit the key to the lock, turning it deftly and swinging the door open on silent hinges. The sight that greeted her and the two humans was terrible.

She had not reentered the room since the Do'Urden had first been captured, refusing to look the unlucky drow in the eye or to join in the almost light-hearted torture that her siblings had participated in. In some ways, she wished she had joined them, maybe she could have used her sharp tongue to talk them out of most of their tortures. His body was beaten and bloody, and arm mangled and one eye swollen shut among the various slashes and bruised that crisscrossed his handsome face. A small dart protruded from his abdomen, and from the colors that marked the end, she could quickly guess what poison coursed through his veins. She had used it many times herself for the targets that the Matron wished she spend more time on.She crossed the room quickly and snatched the dart from the quivering drow's body. With a snort of disgust, she tossed it into a dark corner then began to unlock the shackled that bound the drow to the wall.

With a grunt, Drizzt slumped the the ground, Cattie-brie sprang forward to catch him as Entreri pulled the mask from his face and deposited it in a pouch. He looked inquisitively at Zie'la. "How are we going to drag him through the tunnels?" He asked. "I sure as hell am not going to carry him, and it doesn't look like he can walk."

"We're not leaving him," was Cattie-brie's vehement reply before Zie'la could utter a word.

"Shut up," She snapped, turning to the lone shelf against the far wall. She grabbed one of four glass bottles of murky liquid from the wall, pulled of the cork, and sniffed it. "Praise the damn Lady," she breathed, crouching by Drizzt and turning the bottle to his lips. "What is that?" The human woman asked suspiciously, blocking Zie'la's hand briefly. She shot her a look of pure poison. "Potion," Drizzt weezed quietly, so low and hoarse even Zie'la's drow ears could barely hear it. She could hear his breath catching in pain, rattling ominously in his lungs.Cattie-brie removed her hand. "Bottom's up," Zie'la murmmered, emptying the entire bottle into the drow's mouth. She shifted her body a bit to take Drizzt's weight, freeing Cattie-brie. "Grab the other four," she commanded of the human woman. She nodded as Entreri took up position by the door.

With each bottle, Drizzt's eyes cleared and focused, his wounds closed, the intense pain of the poison left his face, his breathing returned to normal, and the deathly rattle in his throat stopped. Zie'la helped him sit upright, then relinquished her spot willingly to an exzuberant Cattie-brie. She joined Entreri at the door and fidgeted impatiently, drawing a wedge shaped knife and her stilletto in anticipation. Entreri, seeing her move, pulled his dagger and sword. "Trouble?" He asked quietly. "More than likely." Behind her, Drizzt hailed her angrily. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and turned toward him. "What are they giving you to help them, Baenre?" He spat vehemently. "What promises have _you_ made? What lies have you told them?" Her eyes narrowed, bored into his. "Nothing, you idiot Do'Urden. What could two captured humans possibly promise or pay me that I would accept?" She spat. He advanced toward her as she tensed. "You expect me to believe a Baenre daughter, an assassin, would willingly help two humans rescue your mother's prisoner? Do you think me stupid? I know what it is you want," She laughed. "I care little for what you think or believe, Do'Urden, as for what you know of me, how could you, as you've only met me once, under extremely unfavorable conditions I might add. Let me remind you, it was I who tried to save you from the illithid."

The two humans watched them curiously, unable to understand to rapid conversation in the drow language. Cattie-brie began to step forward, but Drizzt waved her briefly away. Her last sentence gave him pause to think, though after a moment he continued his interogation. "You help us only to get close to Bruenor, so you can full fill the job given to you by your Matron,"Drizzt seethed, shocking Zie'la. Truthfully, that thought had never occured to her; not that she would have used this as an opportunity. For a moment, she simply stared at him, unable to express the words she felt swirling around her mind. "No," she began haughtingly. "I do this for...escape, nothing else. Not to finish a job, nor to set a trap, not even to capture you for myself, Do'Urden. I do this only for me...and, I suppose, for you as well, but you won't find me admitting it to anyone else." Drizzt looked stunned, then a smile widened on his face, and, reaching out, clasped hands with her. "I believe you and I will make a wonderful team." Behind them came shrill laughter and all four whirled toward the sound. Three Baenre sisters, Vendes and her wicked snake-headed rope in the middle stood in the hallway, watching the four with a viscious gleam in their eye. "Do'Urden, I sincerely doubt either one of you will live long enough to find out."


	9. Betrayal? Certainly

WOO! Oh yeah, I'm back for the summer! Heck yeah, do a dance you non-existant fans your favorite writer has returned!

Yes, my friends, that was sarcasm, back to my brand new, totally fresh, and original(sorta, I mean, it IS a fanfic) chapter.

With a quick, almost imperceptable movement, Zie'la's wedged fighting knife and thin short sword flashed in her hands. She held them with a decievably calm air, though her tensed muscles could be seen through the fabric covering her back and shoulders. "Sisters," she purred quietly, eyeing all three with an expression neither challenging nor fearful; though before she had seemed maybe slightly hesitant or resigned, now she appeared calmed and focused, totally dedicated to where her path lay. Her body language spoke volumes--Zie'la's path led either out of the Underdark or in death.

"You are a fool, Sister," Vendes cackled, cracking her whip almost lovingly so that it came close to grazing Zie'la's face. The adopted daughter, expecting this movement, didn't even twitch. "Always the same Vendes, have you no other tricks?" She was deliberately baiting; Why? There wasn't any particular reason, other that Vendes was a tempermental and volatile creature and Zie'la enjoyed watching her shadowed skin darken more with rage. Three whips sliced the air, three cold pairs of eyes met three sets of desperate ones; Drizzt in his ragged clothing, still woozy with pain his armor and weapons in the farthest corner and well out of his reach, Entreri crouched low in his fighter's stance though one hand strangely in his pocket, Cattie-Brie with her magically endowed bow.

Zie'la laughed, dropping her two weapons back into their places at her side, she stood erect, hands outstretched, regarded her sister's with a delighted expression in her eyes. "Surely you do not think this treachery? Regretably, we do not find pleasure in each other's company, but surely you know me better than this!" Her sisters' wore the looks of one slightly confused, though completely unconvinced. Zie'la pressed harder. "Look what I have brought our House," she gestured to the two humans,"A human assassin and the companion of the Do'Urden, both hidden from our Matron by Jarlaxle! Surely you don't believe I would be foolish enough to help them escape?" She laughed again. "You can't believe that I would actually have let them flee? I was only waiting for my good sisters' arrival."

She could see Drizzt indredulous face, the determined countenance turning swiftly into one of deject despair and rage; the two humans, who had not understood a word of the drow tounge, were nontheless aware that something not good for them or their freedom was taking place.

Vendes was still wary, but almost convinced. "You would have me believe this, Sister?" She asked slowly, thoughtfully twirling her menacing snake-headed whip as she thought.

"I would."

Swirl, swirl, flip, snap. Went the whip as Vendes thought this new situation over. Bladen and Quentel, exchanged glances with each other, neither completely sure what to believe from their clever sister.

A clever light entered Vendes eyes. The vicious whip stopped its movement as Vendes spoke gleefully. "Then believe you I will. But you must prove it; not to me, but for our Matron, who will surely want an example of your loyalty. Kill the idiot woman," She gestured toward Cattie-Brie.

Zie'la smiled. "_Khr'uss."_

_Certainly._


	10. Surprise

With a quick, practiced flip of her wrists, three thin, wickedly sharp throwing needles were deposited unseen into her skilled palms. With a feeling of deep hatred, these assassin's tools were sent on an unerring passage toward the throats of Zie'la's three sisters. Two found their marks in the jugular veins of Bladen and Quendel, who quickly dropped their whips and grabbed for their throats, choking horribly as they fought to hold back the stem of blood. The needles, magically enhanced to dig deeper into the flesh of the victim, glittered like fine silver as the front point breached the back of the neck.

The third was deflected by a lightning quick snap from one of Vendes snake heads. With a snarl of rage, she sent the vicious whip toward Zie'la's head. Three things happened at once. From Entreri's direction, his deep voice call "Guenhwyvar!" and with a swirl of black mist the cat materialized with a joyful growl; Cattie-brie let an arrow from her enchanted bow fly, only to he snapped in half by a quick snap of the whip; Drizzt made a successful leap toward his own double scimitars. With a cockly smile, Zie'la sent a trio of needles toward her hated sister's body, one buring itself triumphantly into her left shoulder, dangerously close to the heart. Abandoning the needles, Zie'la tore the stiletto and wedged knife pair from her hip and joined Drizzt in his charge toward the last remaining sister.

Scimitars sliced through wicked snake heads, stilletto and knife followed. The end of Drizzt's deadly scimitar's came down hard over Vendes' head, dropping her to the cold stone floor mid-battle. He deftly kicked the whip away from her hand and severed the still-withering heads. Zie'la dropped the stilletto quickly back into its place, twisting the knife deftly around one finger as she stood starring down at her last sister thoughtfully. Behind her, Drizzt was uniting joyfully with his lost companions, but she could feel Entreri's eyes boring into her back as she continued to contemplate her sister's evil visage.

"Lolth damn it," And she drew her blade quickly across Vendes throat. A small twitch as her blood spilt through the thick cut, joining her sisters' on the cold stone where all three's mingled with the dried blood of Drizzt and so many other victims.

"_V'dri al, ussta xukuthe'l dalninil. Xal Lolth jiv'elgg dos wun dosst deis_." She whispered sarcastically to the dead drow before turning to her new companions and motioning them out into the corridor. Drizzt leaned toward her as they passed out into the darkness of the corridor, with a soft smile and a sarcastic gleam in his eye, he whispered in the drow language," Well, that was certainly strange." Suprised, she found herself smiling in return.

**Translations**

Sleep well, my heartless sister. May Lolth torture you in your dreams.


	11. Chatters and Ideas

Wow, it has been an **extremely** long time since I last updated this. For my ghostly readers and reviewers: _L'amith!_

* * *

They followed her swiftly along the twisting corridor, weapons locked into positon, every muscle taunt, and eyes searching endlessly into the depths and shadows. The muted singing of the priestess in the cathedral occasionally mingled with the slight sounds of their flight, and both drow cringed involuntarily as a particularly loud song penetrated forcefully through the thick stone walls. From the briefly disipherable moments, the unholy service hadn't yet reached its climax, which, thought Zie'la cynically, was the _only _thing that appeared to be in their favor at the moment.

Her mind mulled over their options rapidly. Ahead, a half-score of minotaurs lounged --no doubt alerted by her sisters beforehand about her treachery. Plans of action were thin upon the ground, and each course she pulled through her scheming mind seemed as unlikely to work as the last.

She came to an abrupt halt. Turning toward her companions, she shrugged lightly and raised an eyebrow. "Well, my comrades in escape, what is your course of action?"

Cattie-brie shrugged. "Not get killed, would be my suggestion," she intoned sarcastically. Zie'la shot her a cynical smile. "Why thank you, human, I must admit I had yet to think of that one! The sheer intelligence of your race is astounding!" angry glares from all sides.

There was a stretched, uncomfortable silence in which all parties continued to glare forcibly at each other.

Finally, Zie'la issued a small bow to each. "_Evagna ussa_," She whispered hoarsely, "My nerves are stretched a bit taunt at the moment." Entreri grunted, "As are mine," His mouth twitched a moment as if he were attempting to smile. "Fortunately, I may have a remedy," He pulled something from his pocket.

It was small, roughly round, a muddy, brownish red, and chalky in appearance.While Drizzt and Cattie-brie remained puzzled, Zie'la's eyes lit up. "Brilliant!" she whispered excitedly as she picked it gingerly from Entreri's hand. This time, Entreri really did crack a grin, though in the dark it was hard to make out. "I have many more,"

Zie'la would have happily kissed him.

* * *

**Translations:**

Evagna ussa: "Forgive me."

L'amith: "Enjoy!"


	12. Explosions and Escape

The minotaur didn't stand a chance.

Zie'la and Entreri threw four of the tiny, clay-like balls into the circular guard room, watching with matching grins as the beasts' puzzled expressions as each projectile landed with a soft _thruump._ All four(Drizzt having sent Guen pack to her realm) ducked swiftly into an adjacent, doorless cell as the chalky little pellets done their job.

"3--"

"2--"

"1--"

With a concussive rage, the four bite-sized bombs exploded, buckling the walls and incinerating the minotaurs before they had any time to react to their presence. The four escapees were thrown violently against the cell wall as stone dust erupted around them and boiling heat fled through the halls and seared their lungs. The thick bars of the cell were blown off their hinges and landed heavily on Zie'la, sending her careening into the far wall and clipping Catti-Brie across the face. The fiery explosion consumed itself with a last, angry _pop _and the four survivors were left in painful, terrified silence.

_"Damn," _Zie'la whistled softly as she attempted to wiggle out from beneath the tortured metal, wincing as the steaming hunk came in contact with bare skin. Drizzt, pushing aside the burnt remains of a bench, came to her aide with the reluctant help of Entreri. The heaved the wreckage off and into a corner while Catti-Brie tried to staunch the blood from a wound above her eye. "Probably not one of yer better ideas," Cattie-brie said delicately, flexing her wrist with a wince. Zie'la surprised her with a laugh. "Probably not," she agreed. "But it sure as hell was a whole lot of fun," Drizzt snorted. "Would is be naive to image that the _rest _of Menzoborranzan did not feel that?"Entreri asked sarcastically.

Zie'la shrugged. "Technically, Entreri, this was _your _idea," she reminded. "Nonsense," he snarled. "I merely offered the means," Drizzt cocked an eyebrow and Cattie-brie tapped her foot impatiently. "You can argue uselessly later," she glared. "Let's _go," _She marched out of the demolished cell into the still-smoking hallway. Zie'la rolled her eyes as Cattie-brie stopped uncertainly. "Lead away," the drow said pointedly. The human woman smiled and moved aside for Zie'la to take the lead.

In the controlled chaos following the explosion--the drow never prone to order-- the reluctant companions managed to slip out of Menzoborranzan relatively unharmed, into the unwelcoming tunnels of the Underdark. In these tunnels, far from the familiar ones running closest to Zie'la's home city, the female drow was of little help. In a bizarre twist of events, Cattie-brie, coupled with Drizzt's vague rememberances, led the way toward the surface.


End file.
